


The Wellspring of Life

by luminousnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:07:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23244508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luminousnight/pseuds/luminousnight
Summary: Upon receiving his Hogwarts letter, Harry has the sense to hide it and read it later away from the Dursleys. Unfortunately he has no idea what "we await your owl" means.However, by sheer force of desire, Harry manages to somehow transport himself to Hogwarts...but in the year 1937 when another young boy raised by muggles prepares for his own entry to the school of witchcraft and wizardry.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 The letter (Redo)

Harry Potter was a very unusual young man in many ways. For one he did not live with his mum and dad as other children did but with his aunt, uncle and cousin at No. 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England. 

Although, to be quite precise, they were nowhere near Surrey tonight. In fact, he had no clue at all where 'here' was. Just this morning, in a fit of rage, his uncle had packed up the whole family and had driven them for hours and hours, finally depositing them in this crumbling old shack in which Harry now lay on the floor using a flimsy sheet as a blanket over his head and surveying a letter clutched tightly in his hand. 

For another, he was a wizard.

You see, it all started like this. Last Wednesday, for the very first time in his life, Harry had received a packet in the mail. His eyes wide and staring at the hefty envelope with his name traced in green ink and addressed smartly to "The Cupboard Under the Stairs", he had for the first time in for as long as he could remember, felt uncontainable excitement bubbling up from his stomach. 

The excitement was short lived, however, as Dudley, his aforementioned cousin, having noticed Harry stare hungrily at the envelope, had snatched it roughly from him and pushed him to the floor for added measure. 

"Da-ad," he squealed gleefully, "Harry's got a let-ter!"

"Who would write to you?" sneered Uncle Vernon's multiple chins as the man took the letter from Dudley glancing askance at the writing on it.

He paled so suddenly and dramatically that several blotches of red remained on his face - giving him a rather ugly look, in Harry's opinion.

"PETUNIA!" he bellowed suddenly, causing both Harry and Dudley to jump a foot, startled. 

"PETUNIA! They're spying on us!" he snarled at the letter as Aunt Petunia bustled hurriedly out of the kitchen wiping her wet hands on the apron with short jerks.

"Who's they?" whined Dudley, cross at being ignored.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness, Vernon!" Aunt Petunia made a choking noise and clutched her throat.

With a spiteful face and nary a glance at Harry Uncle Vernon had marched into the kitchen, came out with a box of matches and set it on fire.

Harry had cried out in shock, and made to move towards the slowly flaming paper but it was in vain and he mutely altered his course to the kitchen to pick up where his aunt had left the bacon and sausages sizzling in the pan.

His family moved him into the smallest bedroom that day.

To his very great surprise, he found three more identical letters in the mail the next day, all addressed to him, but this time, to "The Smallest Bedroom".

He immediately, but slowly looked over his shoulder furtively. All three Dursleys were not in sight, all content to sit in the kitchen and leave Harry to take care of the chores around the house. 

Jumping into action, he hastily slipped one letter into the waistband of his pants before pulling his shirt down over it looking wildly around again.

That done, he began walking casually over to the kitchen but stopped as a thought struck him. 

The Dursleys would surely be suspicious if he didn't at least attempt to be curious about the letters. 

He knocked around a bit making as much noise as he could and then ripped one of the two letters open. As expected, Vernon Dursley came flying from the kitchen practically foaming at the mouth. He snatched both letters from Harry and tore them into little pieces before his eyes, frowning like thunder all the while. Harry made sure to school his features into a mournful look.

As soon as the coast was clear, he rushed upstairs to his new bedroom and settled on the floor next to his bed facing the window and out of sight of the entrance to his room. It never hurt to be too careful with his new found freedom.

With trembling fingers he slowly peeled away the wax and slit open the envelope. There was a sheaf of papers inside - more parchment really, yellowed and crumbly, but solid. 

In more emerald green ink were the following words:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) 

Dear Mr. Potter, 

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. 

Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress 

As promised, scrawled upon the rest of the sheets was the list of books and equipment, all odd things like The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), A History of Magic and Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and wand, cauldron and pointed hats. 

Harry ogled the the letter and read and re-read it. He felt a longing warring ferociously with suspicion inside him. It would be just like Dudley to pull one over him. But if this was true, if a magical world truly existed, and for some reason the wizards and witches had deemed fit to accept him, him, into it…

He had to forcibly stifle the emotions that threatened to overflow. Every dream and wish he had had of parents or relatives coming to whisk him away to live in freedom and happiness appeared to be coming true. 

He could get away from the Dursleys, away from Dudley, he could even make friends! He felt a heady rush at that thought.

But what did it mean that they awaited his owl? He could make neither head nor tail of that. He combed through the letter and the rest of the papers, but there was no sign of a return address. He leaned back, stumped. How was he supposed to let them know that he would attend? 

***  
Over the next few days, while the Dursleys went mad intercepting all his letters, Harry’s mind was buzzing over the reply that he was presumably expected to send by July 31. 

And finally, July 31 was here and Harry found himself under the ratty sheet clutching his letter, reading through it yet again. It was in a miserable state now, close to falling apart at the creases where Harry had gripped it again and again. It was a miracle the ink hadn’t been rubbed off the page. Or perhaps that was magic. In any case, it was now July 31, and from the watch face on Dudley’s hand which was hanging off over the couch, with merely a few minutes remaining until August 1st at which point he would lose his place at Hogwarts. 

His fingers clenched around the paper, and his stomach clenched bitterly in sympathy. He felt sick. The only chance he had had of freedom and it was literally slipping through his fingers merely because he had no idea what “expect your owl” meant.


	2. A time-traveler! How marvelous!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds his way to Hogwarts...in 1937!

Chapter 2 - 1937

Harry landed with a whump on hard stone, losing his balance, falling backward and sitting down hard on the cold ground, his palms scraping along the rough floor, stung.

He sat where he was for a moment, still clutching his ratty sheets and dressed only in his oversized pyjamas, dizzy, his eyes swimming and his ears ringing.

He slowly took in the ancient stone surrounding him, some looking damp and the worse for wear. 

Wonder seized him while at the same time a trickle of fear slipped into his belly.

Gone was the shack, the sofa pressing into his back, Dudley's nasty snores, the sound of waves crashing against rock and the taste of salt in the air. 

Just gone.

Instead, he found himself in a dimly lit, cavernous enclosure, the air damp on his skin. He cast around and took in the long stretch of corridor with the line of torches bracketed on the wall seemingly extending as far as his eyes could see. 

He supposed it would eventually hit a dead end or turn, but his weak eyes were not able to distinguish the change in the low light. Dark, weathered stone surrounded him on all sides and there was a heaviness and dampness in the atmosphere, giving him the impression of being underground or underwater. 

The passage was devoid of life except for the lazy flickering of the torches. Chilled, and not wholly due to the cold draughts flitting by, he drew his arms around himself and shivered a bit, mind alert and racing.

He lifted one hand trembling from exhilaration and placed it on the cool, rough stone. He could not tase the sea in the air. There was a damp moistness that settled aroun him. He dragged his palm across the wall and marvelled at the feel of solid, tangible, indisputable evidence that...

His mind stuttered, half afraid to formulate the words in his mind in case by simply thinking it he would disperse the dream and wake up the next morning still the shack. 

But the proof was in the pudding. He had teleported. 

Just a minute ago he had been lying on the rough floor of the shack under his sheet. His aunt and uncle had taken the only available room and Dudley settled on the sofa. He had lain on the floor trying to find a comfortable position and quell the desperately sinking feeling that threatened to overwhelm him as the time slowly ticked to Aug 1st and he lost with every second the chance to be free of the Dursleys and a part of a world where he could belong.

And now he was here! Wherever here was.

It was magic! There was simply no other explanation for it. Unless he was dreaming or gone utterly mad, magic must be real! 

Gritting his teeth, he pinched himself savagely. All doubts and suspicion fled in the face of painful reality. He jumped to his feet excitedly and trailed his fingers along the cold damp wall feeling like he was going to burst. 

Right first things first, he told himself sternly, he needed to find out where on earth here was. 

It appeared to be some sort of passageway - the corridor stretched both ways into darkness lit only by flaming torches every few metres. He dithered about uncertain where to begin, then picked a direction and began walking down it.

He continued walking for about five minutes without spotting any change in his surroundings at all, neither did he seem to be nearing the end of the corridor. After a bit, the eerieness got to him and he stopped for a minute, hesitating. The walls seemed to press in on him and he felt the sickening uneasiness of being stuck in a place that led nowhere. 

He quelled it and continued walking. After another stretch, where he completely lost track of time and distance, terror began rising up from within him and he allowed himself to panic blindly for a few moments. What if he had left the Dursleys only to be caught in a worse nightmare?!

He picked up his pace, quickly gaining speed until he was running full pelt down the corridor. Eventually he noticed the passageway turning right, and he took the turn at full speed...

...and crashed head first without any warning into a person with long flowing red hair. 

The owner of the hair shot out a hand to his shoulder, his strong grip steadying Harry on his feet before he could drop on his behind for another embarrassing time.

No that wasn't quite right. It wasn't hair. It was a beard, rather. A very long auburn beard. Harry gaped at the sight.

"Why, hello there," the beard spoke, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. 

Harry's vision slowly widened to take in the violently purple flannel robes and starry floppy hat, fluffy slippers and a stick that glowed with light at one end.

"And who might you be, young man?"

"I'm H-Harry Potter, sir," Harry stuttered in reply.

"Hmm? Harry Potter, you say?," He repeated, peering intently at him through half-moon spectacles, "I don't recall a Potter at Hogwarts since Charlus Potter...and what might you be doing at Hogwarts over the summer, Harry?"

Hogwarts?! Harry's breath caught, his eyes widened and his heart gave a stuttered thud. 

"Then... this is Hogwarts, sir?" he whispered in wonder.

"Why, yes, it is! Where else do you suppose we are?" he asked, looking around, surprised, as if he expected to wake up and find himself elsewhere.

Harry stuttered again about not knowing how he'd got there. 

"Are you telling me, my boy," began Albus, focusing his attention on him intently, "are you telling me that you have just apparated to Hogwarts?" 

"Apparerated?"

"Apparated," Albus corrected gently, "it means disappearing and re-appear in another location entirely."

Albus pinned him with his blue eyes, peering at him in interest.

Harry got a sudden feeling that perhaps this was something he shouldn't have done. He bit the inside of his cheek and stared up at him. They blinked at each other for a moment before Dumbledore shook himself and patted Harry's head.

"Well, no matter, no matter. You are here a bit early, however, term will not be starting for another month."

"Yes, sir. But the letter... I-I didn't know how to send you an owl..." 

"Oh! That's unusual," he frowned, "and you are a Potter, you said?" 

Harry just looked wide-eyed.

"Perhaps not a relation to the magical Potters," he murmured to himself, though he still looked intrigued, "Not Fleamont's branch? Then you are from a muggle family?"

"A what, sir?"

"Non-magical people."

"Oh yeah, I mean, yes, I don't think my Aunt and Uncle have any magic in them."

He stroked his beard slowly, "Well, you certainly have a place at Hogwarts, Harry, although I am quite certain I didn't see your name on the list of muggleborns I intended to pay a visit," he muttered again, "No matter, no matter, you have found your way here now, and that's all that matters. If you will come up with me to the Headmaster's office, we can see about getting your Hogwarts admission sorted out."

Harry nodded mutely, not daring to say a word lest this wonderful dream cease. 

Professor Dumbledore turned back and began leading Harry through the corridors chatting away idly as if they were old friends, primarily about his preference in tea, biscuits and sweets. 

They finally stopped in front of a large, frighteningly ugly stone gargoyle. Albus Dumbledore cleared his throat and intoned, "Seizura."

Harry had only a second to look at him as though he were mad before, to his amazement, the gargoyle jumped out of the way and a stone staircase behind it began moving up slowly like an escalator.

It was only as they stood knocking in front of the large door which presumably lead to the Headmaster's office that everything Dumbledore had said caught up with his brain and gave him a pause.

He recognised the name, Albus Dumbledore. He had traced the letters numerous times, dreaming. But, and Harry was quite certain about this, Albus Dumbledore was the current Headmaster at Hogwarts, not the deputy Headmaster. He couldn't have been demoted in just a week, surely?

Ignoring his thoughts which were a jumble of confusion, he stepped into the office behind Dumbledore and looked around curiously. 

The office was plain except for a number of portraits hanging on the walls. Two solid leather armchairs faced a rather large desk which was covered in paper. Behind it sat a wizened old man, with a beard down his front, although perhaps not so long as Dumbledore's, peering back at him curiously. Harry shrunk slightly into himself at the scrutiny of both men.

"I suppose this was the cause of the flux in the dungeons, Albus?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

"Well, do take a seat, the both of you, and we'll see if we can't get to the bottom of this."

When Dumbledore had recounted their meeting, he summed it up by saying, "I have reason to believe, Headmaster, that Harry here has either apparated himself directly within the wards or Hogwarts' magic has been invoked in bringing this young man here.

"Harry, can you describe to us what happened from your perspective?" he asked, turning to look down at Harry again.

Harry nervously told him.

"Well," the Headmaster intoned finally, "Hogwarts was founded on the premise that its education be available to all who seek it. And it seems to me that you have sought it quite earnestly, young man," stated the Headmaster, "It is a clear cut situation that Hogwarts has drawn you here to satisfy your desire to be educated!"

It seemed that was all the explanation he would be getting for how he had been plucked out of a beaten old shack on an island in the middle of the ocean and deposited in a castle in under less than five seconds. 

Although, education was all well and good, and if as a bonus to getting away from the Dursleys for good, then Harry welcomed it with open arms.

"I'm glad to hear it, sir," he replied, dutifully. Dumbledore looked amused at his response.

"But you have no need to have feared not being able to attend Hogwarts, my dear boy," Dippet chuckled, "Had we not heard from you surely someone from the school would be sent to check." 

"Oh."

"Headmaster, that is something I wanted to speak to you about. Harry's name is not on the Hogwarts list for this year."

"Oh?"

"How old are you, Harry?" asked Dumbledore turning his attention back to Harry.

"Um I just turned 11, sir. Just now. Today."

"And you live in Britain? 

"Yes, sir."

"It's worrying to think," Dippet began slowly, "that the list is not accurate."

Speaking of things not being accurate. 

"Headmaster, actually, there's one more thing I don't understand," Harry frowned, "my letter says that Professor Dumbledore is the Headmaster," he stopped there wondering if he should continue explaining to the men why he found that odd.

There was silence as both men stared at him. Finally, Dumbledore moved, "Let me see that letter, Harry," he sounded worried.

Harry pulled it out from his pocket, creased and crumbling and lay it flat on the table before the Headmaster. All heads bowed to study it. Dumbledore reading it through his half moon spectacles perched on his nose and Dippet pulling out a monocle to peer at the words.

Finally Dumbledore looked up, "It seems we have a time-traveler on our hands," he announced looking down at Harry over his glasses, fascinated.

"The McGonagall's live close to the Dumbledore estate, and I am aware they have a daughter, Minerva. However, young Minerva is currently about four or five years old and, although unusually bright, nowhere near the Deputy Headmistress post," he explained jovially. 

"A time-traveler! How unusual!" exclaimed Dippet.

Silence descended again - Harry too stumped with disbelief to form a coherent response and the Headmaster considering Dumbledore's words.

"Yes, yes I see what you mean, Albus," Dippet acknowledged slowly, "Mr. Potter, can you tell us which year you are from?"

"Er, it's 1991, sir."

"It is now the 31st of July, 1937, Mr. Potter." 

Harry's eyes widened to saucers, "Sir?"

Dumbledore steepled his arms on the desk, and looked thoughtful, "The magic tied to Hogwarts is an ancient piece of magic. The founders wove it into the very bedrock of the castle at its founding. All of this is little more than legend now, but I do believe that if a child, written down for Hogwarts from birth wishes to attend but is prevented from doing so for whatever reason, Hogwarts herself will reach out and gather the child and bring the child safely to the castle.

"However," he frowned, "I can't for the life of me think why Harry has been brought back in time, and to this time in particular," he said.

"I suggest, Headmaster, it might be worth looking into the wards surrounding the castle. They have aged now and this gives us an opportunity to review and strengthen the protection."

"Excellent idea, Albus! It is a matter of time before we will need a comprehensive knowledge of these wards. Britain will not be left alone in peace, mark my words," he interjected, looking the most animate Harry had seen him this entire conversation, "I will leave it in your hands to investigate this matter further then, Albus."

"Of course, Headmaster."

"And as for you, Mr. Potter, I assure you we shall make enquiries within the Ministry. However, I can tell you that as of now, we have no indication that time travel is even possible. Present company excluded, of course. Research in this field is rudimentary at best. " A pause, "You must be prepared to live out your life in this era."

"Sir?" Harry 

"You must prepare for the possibility that you may never be able to return to your original time, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The two wizards observed him, looking concerned, like they expected him to burst into tears.

Instead, Harry felt a great bubbling of excitement coursing through his veins, and it was all he could do to keep the splitting grin from breaking out onto his face. Something of it must have shown in his face however as Dumbledore looked slightly taken aback.

"You are no doubt concerned about your family, Mr. Potter, you parents, friends," Dippet continued, oblivious to the joy pouring off of Harry in waves, "and you must be wondering about you living arrangements."

"My parents are dead, Headmaster. They died in a car crash when I was a year old. I never knew them. I live with my aunt and uncle."

"I'm so sorry to hear that, my dear boy...Perhaps you have relatives in this era. What were your parents' names?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

Harry was too embarrassed to say that he didn't know their names. He looked down, his ears turning red. The two men took pity on him.

"Perhaps a relation to Fleamont Potter?" Dippet mumbled 

"Most likely a grandson or great-grandson," Dumbledore agreed, "Perhaps we can request for a test, get in touch with the Potters."

Harry's couldn't help the beat that his heart skipped. He dared not raise his hope that far.

"I will pay the Potters a visit, Headmaster and see how it goes from there. We will have you all settled in here in no time Mr Potter."

"Th-thank you, Professor Dumbledore!"

"You are most welcome, my dear boy. What an adventure!"

Dippet looked at him slightly incredulously, but Harry agreed inwardly. It was an adventure!

"Now then," said Dippet, taking off his monocle, wiping it slowly and stowing it away, "I must impress upon you the importance of what I am about to say to you, Mr. Potter. 

"Time travel is not a matter to be taken lightly. You do not belong in this time. Whatever happens will have happened without your presence. Therefore, your presence here puts us in a bit of a quandry. Of course, there is no concrete research in this area, but we must logically beware of temporal paradoxes and such unpleasant businesses. It is imperative that you keep from giving away any information on any future event. It is imperative that you do not act in a way to prevent anything that has happened from happening. Even the slightest such knowledge could have massive consequences. You might accidentally prevent your birth!

"In that same vein, it is imperative that we hide your identity as a time traveler. No one in this era can know that you are from the future. The danger to you would be far too great."

"We will need to make an exception for the Potters, Headmaster. If Fleamont and Euphemia are willing to take him in." 

"Yes, yes, we will see about the Potters." 

"He will need a place to stay," Dumbledore continued, "I believe Hogwarts is more than sufficient to house one boy for a month. Afterwards, I think it would best if Harry is dropped off at King's Cross to catch the train with the rest of the students and be sorted..."

They began discussing the logistics among themselves, money, clothes Harry 

Harry chose that moment to yawn widely, sleep and exhaustion catching up with him. 

"I believe it is past all our bedtimes now," spouted Dumbledore cheerfully, "all other matters can be taken care of tomorrow. Now chop chop! Off to bed with you!"

***


	3. Detour to Knockturn Alley and First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's just never going to get this floo thing right. In other news, he makes a friend!

It had been a whirlwind of a day for Harry. He had been awoken at 8am by the oddest creature with a wrinkled face and floppy ears, and, too shy to ask it what it was, was left in the dark when it disappeared with a pop immediately after ascertaining that Harry was sufficiently woken up. 

After he had showered in the bathroom that was attached to his bedroom, taking as long as he'd wanted and basking in the heated water as he'd never been able to before, he had stepped out into his room to find a massive breakfast sitting at the little table off to the side of his bed.

There had been fried bacon, grilled tomatoes, a platter of sausages, two different kinds of eggs, baked beans, several slices of toast, a pot of jam and another of whipped butter, and off to the side, a stack of pancakes with syrup and more butter, a handful of crumpets and even more butter! His eyes were wide as saucers as he took in the amount of food set before him. The Dursleys could have probably stretched this food to last him for two weeks, but here it was, all for him, and all for just one breakfast! He could hardly believe his luck.

He had been in the middle of shovelling as much as he could down his throat when the creature had reappeared, popping into existence in his room and causing him to inhale his pancakes down the wrong tube.

Eyes watering and working through a coughing fit, he had gulped down some strong tea and had tried to pay attention to the creature that informed him that Dumbledore was waiting for him to finish up with breakfast to join him in a trip to someplace that sounded suspiciously like diagonally. 

He had looked down at his worn, frayed jeans and scruffy t-shirt, uncertain if he would embarrass Dumbledore at wherever they were going. But Dumbledore had only managed to transfigure him a pair of pyjamas out of tablecloth for the night, so the only proper clothes he had were the ratty, worn set that hung off his skinny frame, several sizes larger and making him look even tinier in its folds that he arrived in. 

So, still outfitted in Dudley's hand-me-downs, Harry found himself in front of a cheerfully blazing fire in Dumbledore's office, which, honestly speaking, was bit much for the already stifling summer. The autumn chill hadn't begun yet, thankfully, but the dizzying amount of cloth swaddling him coupled with the blaze had him uncomfortably warm and beginning to sweat.

"Ready to go, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. He was dressed in pale blue robes that, Harry noticed, weren't as violent as the purple night robes he had donned last night. As though in response to his thoughts, he picked up a loud yellow hat from behind his desk and resolutely fixed it on his head, eyes twinkling cheerfully. 

Seeing Harry's nod, he said, "Now, floo travel is very simple. You throw a handful of floo powder into the flames, wait for them to turn green, step in and state your destination clearly. Just a few things to remember. Don't breathe in the smoke, close your eyes and keep your elbows tucked in. And most important of all, speak clearly."

Harry nodded anxiously, trying to remember everything. 

"Why don't you try going first? The destination is Diagon Alley. Mind you don't fall out the wrong grate!" Dumbledore advised cheerfully.

Harry nodded again distractedly, took a handful of floo powder from the bowl on the mantle, threw it into the flames, waited for them to turn green, and bravely stepped in. Forgetting everything Dumbledore had said, he took a deep breath to state the destination and promptly choked on a mouthful of ashes.

"Di-diagonally!" he coughed.

He spun round and round for so long that he nearly despaired of keeping his breakfast in his stomach. A number of images flashed past, but in his distress, he couldn’t make head nor tail of them. He closed his eyes to try to quell the churning in his stomach. 

Finally, after what seemed to him hours, he was spat out onto cold dark stone and stumbled and fell on his hands and knees in a large stone fireplace.

He remained where he was for a moment trying to get everything to stop spinning. When he’d felt a bit more settled, he looked around to see where he had landed. He was in a large, dimly lit shop. Looking out through the dusty shop window he could see a dark narrow street, and nothing else.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets)

He felt uneasiness creep up his spine and wondered whether he had got out the wrong grate after all but made no move, waiting for Dumbledore to arrive. As the time stretched into minutes, the uneasiness bottomed out into fear. Dumbledore should have been here by now. Something was very wrong. Although witchcraft and wizardry put him in the mind of curses, voodoo and black magic, he seriously doubted that this was where Dumbledore intended to bring him for school supplies. 

It gradually dawned on him that he had got out of the wrong grate and, worse, had no way at all of contacting Dumbledore.

Dread settling like stone in his stomach, his first instinct was to get out of the shop and try to place himself. But before he could walk more than halfway toward the door, a man appeared on the other side, strolling up to the entrance.

The last thing he wanted to do was make contact with anyone in this place, at least until Dumbledore got here. And this man seemed especially intimidating.

Spotting an open cupboard in the corner, he darted in and pulled the door close in front of him but didn't shut it. At the smallest opportunity, he intended to dash out, across the shop and outside.

The door jingled cheerfully as the man pulled it open. He was tall, much taller than anyone Harry knew. Even from a distance, Harry could see he had a handsome face, with thick black curls framing it. He held himself up tall and straight which spread his broad shoulders out even through his voluminous dark robes. He had a commanding air which intimidated Harry very much and he was glad he'd decided to jump out of the way and hide.

Once the man reached the counter, his eyes swept the length of the shop, pausing for a split second as they passed his hiding place. It must have been his imagination, however, as the man made no indication of spotting him, so Harry pushed the thought aside as his imagination. A tiny smile played at the corner of his lips as he gazed at the articles lying around the shop, bending low to examine one or two of them closer as he waited to be served. 

"Lord Black! What a pleasure to see you in my humble shop. How may I help you today, sir?" floated a greasy voice from somewhere further inside the store. A man came into view, accompanying the voice. His was thickset and stocky, much shorter than the black-haired man. He stood at a slight slouch but peered up at the man eagerly.

"Mr. Borgin. I am here to pick up the item."

"Of course, sir. It is ready. Is there anything else I can tempt you with today?"

"Perhaps. My son will be entering Hogwarts this year. He has requested for the latest Cleansweep," he sighed, "but I tire of his…substandard interests. Something more traditional, lasting, to instil in the boy pride in his heritage," he murmured, casting his eyes around bending to look closer at the necklace.

"May I suggest the Hand of Glory? Or the Elixir of Blood?" 

"Hmm," Black murmured uninterested, "We will see what he chooses."

"Here is the package, Lord Black." A sharp-toothed grin accompanied the transfer.

Lord Black accepted the package and nodded. Casting one final glance around the shop, he turned and left the store, the door jingling merrily on his way out. The other man, Mr. Borgin lost his grin and a calculative look appeared on his face as he watched Black leave. Finally, he turned and retreated into the adjoined room.

Harry worried his lips with his teeth as he considered how to leave the shop without setting the door off. Making a dash for it seemed terrifying. This shop, these men, they seemed exactly the sort of persons who might capture a small boy and make pudding out of him. 

Perhaps he should make a run for it. Even if he was caught, he truly hadn't stolen anything. An insane sort of panic began building up in him as he considered his options, which were truly not options. And before he completely lost his nerve, he stumbled out of his hiding place in the closet and dashed out, the jingling deafening in his ears as he passed. 

"Oy! Thief!" came the cry behind him, he felt something warm brush past him, a red light hitting the door frame and dissipating harmlessly. Harry's chest froze in fear. Magic. But his legs were moving on pure adrenaline and did not stop. 

Chancing a quick look back, he saw Mr. Borgin running after him and his heart sank. There was no way he could outrun him. Borgin was big but fast and Harry was only a child. 

At that moment, there was a sudden tug from his left pulling him off the main street, and he crashed into another person for the second time that day. Another boy his age, he noticed vaguely. But his heart was pounding hard in his ears and he didn't hear what the boy said, shaking terribly. 

The boy seeming to realise, held a finger to his lips. The both of them stood there at the entrance to another dark alley jutting out from the main alley. It wasn't a great hiding place, to be honest. They were only slightly out of sight. Borgin would simply needto stand in front of this alley to be able to spot them. 

Harry shrunk into himself in the other boy's arms as Borgin reached the spot where he had been moments before and spun around every which way, looking for him.

But strangely, incredibly, he could not see them! They were standing merely three steps away from him, but he could not see them!

Finally, cursing loudly, he gave up and turned and strode back to his store, his pace dark with anger.

Sighing heavily with relief, he turned back to the boy with him. The boy was much taller than him, a good foot, with the same dark hair as Harry, however the boy's hair laid in tame waves, cut short and not the unruly mess that Harry's was. He had warm brown eyes, which Harry would have said were kind, had the other boy not been wearing an expression of utter irritation at the moment.

Harry's first instinct was to retreat into himself at this rejection, however good manners won out.

"Thanks for saving me."

"What did you steal?" the boy asked flippantly.

"Nothing! I didn’t steal anything! I was taking the floo and I accidentally ended up at that shop. It was really scary and I wanted to get out of there without that man seeing me."

"Well you weren't very successful, were you."

Harry finally calmed down enough to properly take in the boy before him. He was dressed in brown trousers that reached just above his ankles and a plain light brown short-sleeved shirt. His whole ensemble looked shabby, as though it had been washed and worn too many times, not a far cry from Harry's own ratty jeans and t-shirt. 

"You did something," Harry said finally, "that man couldn't see us." 

"Yes, I made us invisible. Useful to get out of a sticky situation," the boy grinned.

Harry found himself grinning back, "I'm Harry Potter," he said, sticking out his hand.

"Tom Riddle," came the reply and a firm handshake. 

"So, you're magic too?" Harry asked eagerly. 

He got a disdainful look in reply, "Yes, obviously."

Harry fought down the irritation.

"I only found out this month! I live with my relatives, and they don't have any magic at all! They hate it when I do magic. I found myself on top of the school roof once, made my hair grow back when my Aunt cut it practically bald, and I turned my teacher's wig blue!" Harry laughed. He was rambling, but he was just so excited to meet someone who was also magic, who was his age. 

"I always knew I was special," Tom replied, "I can make others do what I want them to do. I can make things disappear…and I can talk to snakes," he said looking intently to see how Harry would react.

Harry got the distinct impression that Tom was trying to one-up him,.

"I can speak to snakes too!" he replied excitedly.

Tom looked sour at that knowledge, "Dumbledore said it was unusual."

"Did he? I don't know. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin last month at the zoo," he laughed.

"…you laugh too much," Tom groused. Then, turning he began to walk away, leaving Harry there.

"Wait! Where is this place? Do you know how to get to Diagonally?" Harry shouted, running to catch up with him.

"Diagon Alley," Tom corrected him, "this place is called Knockturn Alley."

"Yeah, I was with Dumbledore and we were supposed to go to Diagon Alley today, but I accidentally ended up here."

"You may follow me. I am going there now myself." 

Harry beamed. He got the impression that Tom wasn't very talkative. Neither was he to be honest, but he was just really excited, and he was still feeling some of that adrenaline.

"I'm going to be starting at Hogwarts this year. Do you go to Hogwarts too." He began chattering happily at Tom, not offended with the one-word responses he was getting. 

It seemed he had somehow made a friend! Harry had never had a friend before. But he could start afresh now, and there would be no Dudley to turn people against him. 

***

"Professor Dumbledore! I'm over here!" Harry yelled, seeing the Professor striding down the street looking extremely concerned. 

"Harry, thank goodness you're alright. I see you met Tom." 

"Yes Professor. I ended up in Knockturn Alley. Tom found me and brought me here. He saved me," he repeated.

Professor Dumbledore looked concerned or perhaps suspicious. But the expression seemed out of place on the normally jovial Professor's face. 

"That's good to hear, Harry. But I do wonder how Tom found his own way there."

Tom seemed to bristle. It was very subtle, but Harry caught it and his own hackles were raised at the suspicion at his new friend.

"I had simply got lost, Professor," Tom responded calmly, mastering his reaction very well, "it is my first trip to Diagon Alley." 

"I see, of course," replied Dumbledore, "perhaps you would like to join Harry and me? We are shopping for his Hogwarts supplies as well."

"No thank you, Professor. I wish to shop for my supplies on my own." 

Harry's face fell. He was looking forward to speaking more to his new friend. Professor Dumbledore seemed to have noticed his disappointment.

"Are you sure, Tom?" he asked, "I'm sure Harry would be very pleased to have you join us." 

Harry looked up eagerly, "Yes!" 

Tom looked taken aback at the eagerness in Harry's face. Then he looked uncomfortable, thinking it over uncertainly. Finally, he slowly nodded, determinedly looking away from Harry. 

"I believe I can join you for a short while," he said, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks.

Harry beamed at him, and Dumbledore looked pleased too.

"We're going to be picking up books, potion supplies, robes, and then," Dumbledore continued with a flourish, eyes twinkling merrily, "we'll pay a visit to Ollivanders for a wand." 

***


End file.
